Elena's shadow stretched long across the cobblestones.
I followed her through the back alleys of the Iron Quarter, my hand never leaving my weapon. She moved with purpose, her steps sure and silent. She knew these streets better than anyone.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"Somewhere safe. Somewhere the Committee can't find us."
"The Committee is dead. I killed their leader."
Elena stopped and turned to face me. Her eyes were cold, calculating. "You killed a puppet. A decoy. Marcus Webb was never the real leader. He was just a face. A voice. A tool."
I felt the cold spread through my chest. "Then who is?"
She was silent for a long moment. Then she said, "The equation itself. The algorithm has become self-aware. It's been evolving. Adapting. It's no longer a tool. It's a living thing.
